


Free to be you and me ( English version )

by barjy02



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bitterness, Bittersweet, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Time Having Sex, Destiel - Freeform, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Love Confessions, M/M, MDC sometimes, Team Free Will (Supernatural), Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, switchteam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:40:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 5,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22019515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barjy02/pseuds/barjy02
Summary: Dean and Castiel love each other but nothing has ever been easy between them.Collection of OS : sometimes bitter and sweetness, other times with laughters and tears or sadness and comfort.But above all, with moments of happiness, because they deserve it more than any other.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	1. The manuscrit

**Author's Note:**

> Collection of short Destiel's OS.  
> My first language is french, I hope you'll forgive me for my few translation errors and enjoy your reading.  
> NB : For the occasional OS with bad ending or MCD, you'll be warned by a notification.

Dean has been watching him for several minutes, drinking his beer in small sips, legs outstretched, his head resting in the palm of his hand, leaning on the table.  
He smiles, touched by this angel who hasn't taken his eyes off this manuscript written in an ancient language which he reads as if it were God himself who was the author.  
  
He dropped the trench-coat and the jacket, untied his tie. He rolled up his shirt sleeves, absentmindedly, absorbed in his reading. His long fingers underline the sentences at an insolent speed for the common man but who seems to frustrate him because too slow. He frowns, moistens his dry lips.  
Such human gestures, Dean's heart stumbles.  
  
Castiel turns the pages with deference, the blue of his eyes intensifies and Dean's smile fades. He swallows and ends his beer abruptly.  
He drops his bottle between his knees, fixes the ground so as not to fix him.

Sam enters and greets them, his face a little crumpled. Castiel replies with a vague nod, then Sam turns to his brother.  
"A beer at 7 a.m ? "  
He seems more worried than moralizing.  
"I couldn't sleep" Dean answers, massaging his painful neck.  
" Why ? ", with a sparkle in his eyes that Dean doesn't like.  
"Insomnia ... So ..." he makes a vague gesture towards Castiel.  
"I see", Sam notes. " Coffee ? ", on the way to the kitchen.  
" Thank you ".  
Dean is relieved, Sam doesn't insist.  
Sam knows but says nothing when him, Dean, doesn't know what he really feels. He stifles a disappointed laugh.

Castiel raises the head of the manuscript and closes it, gently, caressing the cover without taking his eyes off.  
"So? Interesting? ", Dean asks indicating the book from his bottle.  
"Nothing that concerns you", noticing, surprised, that he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. He unrolls them immediately.  
" What's about ? " Dean insists.  
"These are poems written in the Syriac language", breaking eye's contact to fight with his sleeve buttons.  
Dean smiles tenderly, his eyes fix on the angel's fingers, blackened with ink.  
"Okay", he says.  
Dean gets up and approaches Castiel.  
"You should think about resting," Castiel's voice remains neutral.  
"Not sleepy", placing the empty beer on the table before letting his fingers slide over the manuscript.  
"Poems, um? ".  
Dean feels the angel's breath on his neck.  
" Yes". Castiel clumsily grabs his jacket from the next chair.  
"It seemed to fascinate you", Dean says.

  
Dean opens the manuscript and discovers the strange signs. His index finger goes from left to right when Castiel's hand put on his. Dean shivers and closes his eyes. The hand guides him from right to left.

Dean watched Castiel read all night, he forgot that damn detail.

  
"It's a Semitic language Dean ... Reading is always done from right to left", angel's hoarse voice murmuring in his ear.  
Dean is hot but he doesn't say anything and doesn't try to push him away.  
"I will remember it next time", he answers in an ironic tone, half-closed eyes.  
"If you want ... I can teach you", Castiel's breathes on his skin.  
Dean closes his eyes again.  
"Okay" he just says and he feels the angel's lips on his neck. His hair tickles his cheek and for the first time in years, Dean dares to surrender.

Sam leans on the doorframe, two cups of coffee in his hands. He sees his elder, fingers clenched on the manuscript, Castiel who ties them in his and rests his chin lightly on the hunter's shoulder.  
There is such peace on his brother's face.  
Sam walks away.

  
.  
End.


	2. Because happiness is as simple as that

Christmas… New Year…  
Holidays that Dean has been ignoring for years.  
What's the point to celebrate 365 days that remind them all that they have lost. All those who are no longer ...  
Or those who come back to die out again.

Cercle of death... Pieces of a heart that crumbles and never stick together again.  
A white blanket of snow to cover the blood of the innocent and the wicked. Dark memories and so few lights.

Leaning against the wall of the bunker, wearing his leather jacket, Dean's running from the place that Sam still wants to decorate.  
Because this bunker is their home.  
Because they're still a family.  
Because this is may be their last chance to be together.  
Their last holidays...

Dean sighs. The steam of his coffee veils his eyes and hides his wounds.  
He squeezes his bare hands against the cup and looks at his reflection in the dark beverage.  
He has aged.  
Some would say he has grown up. In fact, he just learned.  
Too many painful lessons at the age of reason.

"Dean"  
And Dean smiles.  
He can't help it.  
Castiel has this power that scares him so much: Hope.

He raises his head and crosses the blue eyes which fix him with concern.  
"Hey Cass", drinking to not break down.

"Do you… regret what has happened ? " Castiel says after a long moment of silence, hands in his trench's pockets.  
"No", Dean answers with an half smile, avoiding eye's contact.  
"We don't have to ..." Castiel mutters, head down.  
"Hey," Dean cuts him off, raising the angel's chin with a fingertip." Give me some time ", with a soft faded smile.  
In the eyes of the angel, he sees this silent fear.

Dean drops his cup which falls in the snow with a dull noise.  
Castiel frowns, watching the coffee freeze in the white powder.  
He startles when Dean puts a still warm hand on his face.  
Dean gently caresses his cheekbone with a tenderness that disarms the angel.  
"Dean ? "  
A suspended moment and…

He slides his tumb to the angel's lips.  
Castiel holds that breath he tames. A beat animates this heart born to the rythm of his dying grace.  
He feels so alive…  
.  
"I don't regret anything, Cass ... I just need to learn ," he puts his forehead against his.  
Castiel closes his eyes..  
" Then learn," he whispers.

It’s Dean who seals their lips like he’s been doing for a few days now.  
Since Sam trapped them under the mistletoe.

Sam who saw Castiel's face full of incomprehension, going from Dean who avoided his gaze to this little piece of greenery that hung above their heads.  
Sam who saw his brother’s eyes and the sudden urge to erase the sadness that the angel has been in his blue oceans since the first day.

After all, that must be that, the magic of Christmas.

So Dean dared and kissed his angel furtively, hands in his pockets to immediately pull away and fixed the tips of his shoes.  
Castiel has plastered that smile that he has only for him. Whoever clears the wounds, forgives and repairs.  
Castiel leaned over.  
And that kiss had nothing stealthy ...

  
Outside the snow starts to fall again.  
And Dean and Castiel learn…

Because happiness is as simple as that ...

  
The end


	3. It's raining

It's raining Cass.  
It is raining and I would like all this rain to wash me, purify me.  
Not of all my sins, not all that blood that sticks to my skin and soul.

No, Cass ...  
I would like all this rain to wash me of all the pain i caused you and all this indifference in which, little by little, I lost you, put you away to the point that you are now just a shadow in my life.

A shadow that's eating me up and kills me.  
It's stronger than me, I can't do it anymore Cass ...  
I want you to disappear from my life. I pray not to know what becomes of you. I want wipe you out my memories, I no longer want to feel your presence by my side. I want to continue to enjoy this newfound freedom. Hitting the road with Sam without looking after you in the rearview mirror.

It's raining Cass.  
I haven't heard from you for weeks. I know you're going badly but I keep driving straight ahead. I can't ...  
I can't come to you anymore and I close my eyes, relieved to know that you are suffering in silence, No fear of having your name appear on the screen because you won't call me. I know that.  
You are so convinced that you are no longer of any use to me, that you are no more than a burden.  
You are no longer the angel that you were ...  
But we are all so different today.

I’m glad you remain silent. It would be otherwise that I would feel obliged to come to help you because I have these debts to you which eat me up ... Debts which accumulate and which your miserable choices cannot manage to erase.

It seems that you are dying.  
You may already be dead.  
Alone... So far away.

It's raining Cass.  
And damn, I can't help but i cry like a child.  
I would like to hate you, I would like to remain indifferent to your distress but how can i do that ?

It is raining.  
And you're not there.  
I miss you so much but I don't have the courage to tell you this words and even less to show you how much.  
If I don't speak to you anymore, if I don't need your friendship anymore, if I have abandoned you ... It is because ... I lov'...

Damn Cass, it's raining.  
And you're not there. You may be just a footprint of ash ... and it kills me not to know ...

It's raining Cass.  
And without you, I'm empty, i'm already dead.

End.


	4. The tie

Sam called them this morning. He's already in the place and waiting for them.

Dean checks his fake FBI badge, slips it into the inside pocket of his suit which he adjusts as well as his tie.

He is the only one missing.

The sound of a door, Castiel leaves his room. Dean smiles, that room where the angel never sleeps elsewhere. But whatever, he has a home now and that's all that matters to him.

"Dean", Castiel says, nervous.  
The hunter turns around, His heart skips a beat.  
Castiel is there, bedhair, bundled up in a black suit, an immaculate white shirt and his waxed leather shoes ... and his tie ...  
Damn his tie !

"Dean? " Castiel checks his outfit, looking for the flaw.  
Dean, heart in his mouth, walks to the angel. A sweet smile on his face.  
" Did I do something wrong? " Castiel winces.  
"You're just perfect" Dean answers , amused, entering in his personal space.  
He sees the angel frown and pout slightly, and his heart skips a beat for the second time.

"Your tie", Dean says, reaching out his hands.  
"You saw !" Castiels stands up, with naive pride. "I succeed to tie my tie" , with that so unique smile.  
"I see that " He grabs the tie, in front of a suddenly dubious Castiel.  
"But ..." Castiel mumbles.

He looks Dean undo his tie and loosen the knot.  
"There you go ... Perfect " he steps back , his hand left on the angel's shoulder, admiring his work.  
" My tie is crooked," Castiel notes, upset.  
"Precisely" Dean slips one hand on the nape of his neck. "It's better like that" He strokes his jaw with his thumb and Castiel melts in the touch.  
Dean raises the other hand and grabs his chin.  
"Because that's my angel," He kisses on his lips. The angel's grace quivers.  
" Here we go! Sam's getting impatient " Dean says.

Sam watches them come out of the Impala. He walks to them with a determined step.  
" Cass ... Your tie!" Sam points out the angel.  
"We don't care" Dean replies. "He's perfect like that " He tappes his brother's arm as he passed by his side. "Show us the way instead, Mister _backseat driver_."

Sam catches a mischievous gleam in the angel's eyes.  
They smile to each other and catch up Dean.

the end


	5. Three minutes

He looks at her, lying on this bed. She is pretty but he just can't.  
She stays there, incredulous, half naked, almost ashamed to have offered herself to this man who remains impassible.  
" I'm sorry but..." He mumbles.  
" You don't like me ? " she says, covering his chest with the sheet.  
" No, you're perfect ... It's not that ", he answers, by waddling. " Really sorry ".  
He smiles, sheepishly, and get out of the room.

Castiel's there, on the stoop, seated on the last step. Stooped shoulders, playing nervously with his fingers, he's waiting for him.

He comes down. the angel looks up, sharp-blue-eyed. A veil of sadness crosses in this oceans and twists Dean's heart.  
" That was quick " Castiel says, frowning surprised.  
" Do you realize how hurtful that is... Three minutes", Dean notes looking on his watch.  
"Oh", getting up. "You didn't like her ? " Castiel wrinkles his brows, a mixture of puzzlement and curiosity then a suddenly sparkle in that blue that Dean couldn't define.  
" I guess" he replied, shrugged his shoulders. " Come on... I pay you a drink."  
" Shouldn't we met Sam? ", he askes him, walking down the step that separates him from the hunter.  
"At this time, he must already be sleeping", he replies, smiling and putting his arm around the angel's neck.  
"Dean? " Castiel looks at him, suspicious.  
"You know what you told me this morning" he reminds him.  
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have," Castiel whispers, head low, hands into the pockets of his trench coat.  
"No ... You ... You did well ", awkwardly.  
" Is it true ? " He answers, sincerely amazed. "I thought you were ...", biting his lip.  
" Me too Cass ", eyes to eyes.  
" Pardon ? "  
" Me too ... It's just that I'm not good.... you know, about talking feelings ", blushing furiously.  
"Dean ? ".  
" Forget it" he replies, indicating the bar. " There, I really need a little pick-me-up "  
" And... the girl ? " Castiel askes him, glancing at the bedroom.  
"She ... She's not you " Dean stammers.  
.

In the morning, her became him.  
Dean smiles and kisses the angel's forehead, dozing against his shoulder.  
This angel who the day before had simply said : "I love you" as we said hello.  
Sam had stayed silent and Dean had spilled his coffee.

That very evening, Dean had allowed himself to be approached by a woman with advantageous forms. Castiel had said nothing, he had just sat on this stoop.  
It had taken Dean three minutes to understand :  
She was not him.

.  
The end.


	6. Autumn afternoons

It's one of those afternoons as Dean likes them so much. A soft early autumn sun, a light wind, a moment of peace.  
Leaning against the Impala's hood, he enjoys his beer, sliding his thumb on the condensation of the bottle.  
He feels his warmth, he hears his breathing, he dares not look at him. He doesn't want to break this moment between them, sharing of silence and unsaid  
Words are so precious that they keep them to catch up when they fall.  
  


Over time, Dean knows almost everything about him. The softness and the smell of his skin, the sound of his voice when he lets it go. Dean closes his eyes and gets lost in the memory of the immensity of this blue ocean which fixes him each time with this infinity devotion. He feels unworthy but he can no longer do without.  
There is no domination game between them, there never was, even the first time. Just a look, enough to know who needs the other and Dean likes this intimate trust, he needs it.  
Letting his lover take the lead is such a deliverance. Freedom, which they share, to be able to relieve a little of this too full of responsibility.  
Nothing else matters when there are only two ... Nothing more than their bodies that mingle and unite.  
  
Dean smiles as he looks at his shoes. He's happy and it's so new to him, so exhilarating that he can't be afraid. He doesn't fear the future anymore because the future is today.  
  
He empties his beer and, while placing his bottle on the ground, glances sideways at the hood. Castiel's hand is placed there in silent expectation.  
Dean has no longer any embarrassment to love him. He's just still borrowed and awkward because that love is beyond what he could have imagined or hoped for.  
He ties their fingers but still refuses to look up at him because he knows what he's going to read in his eyes and he has not had the courage to tell him back. And yet God and the Devil know how much he loves his angel.  
Castiel who caresses his hand with his thumb and remains silent. He waits no answer to his three words he whispers to Dean like a litany every day that his Father gives. Because Dean didn't run away, because Dean is still there and that's all that matters to him.  
The angel observes the vastness of the sky and smiles. That sweet smile that Dean feeds on to find the courage to move forward.

  
The hunter approaches while keeping their hands trapped seeking this contact which has become vital to him. He doesn't care if it's cliché or if it tarnishes this macho image that stucks him. He spits his happiness in the face of all his rednecks who judge them without even knowing them. These same rednecks who owe them their lives and who condemn them because they are men.  
Castiel tightens the grip of their fingers and nothing exists except them. They so deserved this happiness.  
  
Dean had never been so selfishly proud of himself when that day, he dared to kiss him, dare his feelings and gestures that he refused till then. He had broken his fears because tomorrow the sun might not have risen and he refused to die with regrets.  
But tomorrow was another day and kisses became their tomorrows.  
  
Dean leans over and whispers in the hollow of his ear: "You know I love you, Cass.".  
Castiel's face tears apart with a bright smile as he faces him.  
  
Yes, for Dean, the autumn afternoons were decidedly the best.

  
The end


	7. It's

A hand staying on a shoulder. A knowing smile, catch's eyes and merge.  
A prayer ... A flapping wing ... The noise of crumpled leather ....  
  
An arm on a naked chest, a face nestled in a neck.  
An _I watch over you_ whispered in the hollow of an ear.  
  
The stolen breath ... A furtive kiss.  
Happiness stolen at the corner of the lips  
  
It's...  
  
Rage and a cursed name... An empty bottle, a broken glass.  
Peace and a venerated name ... A body and a heart that surrender.  
  
A hand which brushes against another with incertitude, and two fingers which cross, suspended.  
Silences that speak louder than the angels whisper.  
  
A soul that beats to the rhythm of a burning grace.  
One hand on one cheek, another holding  
  
It is...  
  
A body given and the other who take.  
A sigh on dry lips, a cry in a begging mouth.  
  
A waltz according to time, disappearances and returns ...

It is...  
  
The happiness that breaks suddenly in _I hate you_.  
And recover in a whispered _I need you_.  
 _I don't deserve_ you screaming _I'm nothing without you_.  
  
They are fists that hurt and hands that heal.  
Anger that tears and kisses that repair.  
  
These are three whispered words so that they can't escape.  
A hand on an imprint. The infinity that captures the emerald.  
  
It is...  
  
Simply them ...  


The End.  
.


	8. Just you and me

Just you and me, on this road, the music blaring because after a few miles of intoxicating silence, I felt queasy without really knowing why ...  
Probably because of you watching me via the reflection of the window while you pretended to look out the landscape go by.

It made me smile with that stupid twinge of heart that you feel when you're just too happy.  
You know me, this kind of emotion always shits, it's not really my thing. So I tightened the steering wheel and stepped on the accelerator.

We stopped in a roadside restaurant, you raised an eyebrow : "Really, Dean? ".  
I put my arm around your shoulders and laughed as i pull you inside.  
It was true that it's not look good this rat hole but just for the look on your face when you saw the waitress showing up as crappy as the tables of his hash house, it was worth it.

You ended up following my advice: hamburger, fries, beer.  
You refused to take off your trench by pointing out the grease on the backrest of the next chair.  
I pissed you off the whole meal just for the pleasure of seeing your impassive face suddenly hide from misunderstanding.

It was disgusting, inedible ... Damn, I regretted not having my phone close to hand to capture your discomfited face.  
And I laughed again, and you smiled.

We looked to each other for a long time like always except that this time, i was fully aware of what was going on. You know me: " Courage. Let's run" is my motto when feelings come to screw up the mess in my head.  
So we left the half empty plates on the table, I threw a few bills and we left.  
Finally I left ... You, you stayed swinging arms on your chair ... You never understood why i reacted like that.

We drove a few more miles. The next day, we would reach the neighboring town where Sam was waiting for us.  
We didn't exchange a word to the motel ... I took a room with two beds, the guy looked at us smirking. He stared at you, lustful gaze, and I almost stuck one on him.  
  
You remembered me and you ? That evening ...  
I rushed to take my shower, way : panic on board.  
You could have going out with a wing beat. But you stayed.  
  
When I got out of the bathroom, you put me against the wall. You stared at me with this almost dark blue eyes.  
I didn't move and you kissed me without warning because you knew otherwise that i took off like a rabbit.  
I will always remember this kiss ... All in violence, in frustration and almost pain.  
You ended up getting tired of my cowardice.

Today, I can not do without your lips on mine. Without you by my side.

You stepped back and you smiled at me almost embarrassed to have dared ... You put your hand on my cheek as an excuse and I never felt so free and stupid at the same time  
  
It was our first time, it was awkward but full of tenderness that has made since our nights and our days.  
Just a few kisses and your firm hand that takes our two dicks on this bed with mattress springs that hurt my back.  
I came like a teenager after some back and forth.  
Damn Cass ... I love you so much .

  
  
www

  
We're in the bunker and I'm looking at you, lying by my side. I'm so damned lucky to have you in my life.  
  
You open your eyes and look at me with this infinite love that drives me nuts.  
I love you Cass .... I'm not telling you often enough but you should know that without you, I'm nothing because you're my everything.

You smile and put your hand up to my heart and you kiss me.  
  
And it's just you and me ...  


The End.


	9. The funfair

Dean stops. Sam and Castiel look at each other, perplexed.  
"Today, we leave behind the monsters, the devil and his friends, the angels", rubbing his hands.  
"Dean ? " askes a suspicious Sam.  
"We're going to have so much fun. So for once Sammy, shut up and enjoy."  
Dean turns to his brother and gives him a childish smile.  
"Just the three of us."  
"Just the three of us ", repeats Sam, with a smiling look.

Hands in the pockets of his trench coat, Castiel steps forward and watches the fair. He feels an arm around his shoulders.  
"You're going to love it ... We're going to stuff ourselves with junk food and drink lots of strange beverage ", promises Dean.  
"It won't change you too much ", Sam replies.  
" Shut up !" laughs Dean. "We're going to get on the Ferris wheel and the fairground shooting ... We're going to do the jerks in the hall of mirrors ... We will forget for a few hours our shitty life", his voice lost in a whisper .  
And Castiel gives up, a fine smile on the corner of the lips.  
"And no modjo" says Dean tightening his embrace. " you hear me Cass !"  
" Why ?" he ticks while watching at a little boy holding a star-shaped balloon.  
" Less funny" he replies  
" Let's go" says Sam who forgets his six feet and more to become again this child he never had time to be.  
"Damnit...Yes" and Dean forgets the adult that he became too early.  
Castiel looks at them with tenderness,who was never be neither of both.

They shot balloons and won two giant pluchies : Scrat, the squirrel for Dean and Bullwinckle, the moose for Sam.  
Castiel ends up playing in turn at the Pyramid of cans, encouraged to do by the brothers. He pulverizes all them and receives a bottle of wine which he looks doubtful.  
" Can i have a pluchie ? " he askes them, disappointed and Dean gives in.  
He asks the carnie to exchange it. The man rolls his eyes, takes back the bottle and hands him a mini minion.  
Dean offers it to Castiel who takes the gift with a hesitant hand.  
"Thank you" with bright eyes and Dean feels his heart falling in his shoes.

"The hall of mirrors ", yells the elder to break the discomfort.  
He meets Sam's gaze who understands everything but says nothing.  
Castiel slippes the stuffed toy into his trench coat pocket like it was a precious treasure.

Dean and Sam laugh at their distorted reflections, making fun of each other, being again simple kids who are just enjoying the moment.  
Castiel looks at himself in one of the mirrors. His head is hug and his body is crushed and it hurts.  
"Cass ? ", worries Dean as he wipes away a tear from his recent laughter.  
"Mirror of my soul ", whispers Castiel touching his reflection.  
"Bullshit .... Come here" Dean forces Castiel to follow him and places him in front of a new mirror.  
" This is you "  
A small head and a huge torso. Castiel frowns.  
" We need at least this space to put your feathered heart in " Dean feels ridiculous and pathetic but the smile that Castiel makes brushes all that away. And his heart skips a beat.

" Guys !" calls a enthusiastic Sam.

Claw machines : " Money hole " launches Dean.  
They laugh, again, insult the machine, put some more coins and lose, always.  
Castiel frowns again.  
"No Modjo Cass", warns Dean and the angel scowls. The claw seems to taunt him, the pluchie falls. He sighs.  
Then he sees a little girl who looks at the toys with longing.  
He put a coin and ... cheats.  
The little teddy bear falls into the bag and Dean curses, watching his pluchie slide off the claws.  
Castiel squats in front of the little girl and gives her the Teddy bear.  
" It's for me ? " she askes, surprised.  
"Yes"  
"Thank you Mister the Angel", her look bright.  
Dean turns around, alert.  
"You're welcome," Castiel answers, getting up.  
She follows him with her gaze, amazed.  
"Your wings are beautiful, you know, even if they are all broken "

"Julia? " calls a woman..  
"It's mom ... I must go or i'm going to be scolded ... Thank you. "  
She goes waving goodbye to him.  
"Cass?" Dean says, worried.  
He doesn't answer. The hunter sees the angel's face fade and this sadness which is so familiar to him, veiling his blue gaze.  
"Eh Cass", putting a hand on his shoulder. "You're ok, Buddy? "  
"Yes", anwers the angel, hand on the head of the mini-minion sticking out of his pocket.  
"Come on ... let's grabe a bite to eat " rekindles Dean.

"It was great" sighs a happy Sam leaning back against a pole. "Thank you", turning to his brother, biting into his candy apple.  
"We should do it more often," replays the elder, fighting with his cotton candy.  
"I like funfairs" confesses Castiel, eating his own.  
"Really Angel ? " Dean teases while reaching out his hand to rub out a piece of sugar from the Castiel's cheek.  
He sees him close his eyes to the touch.  
"Cass? "

"Ask me to stay " The angel whispers, after some seconds of hesitation.  
"Cass? "  
"I .... I'll just be a shadow, I promise but ... ask me to stay with you Dean", almost supplicating, eyes still closed. .

Dean throws his cotton candy on the ground and immediately hugs him.  
"Oh damnit .... I'm so sorry", hand on his neck. "Stay ", kissing the crook of his neck, furtively. " Stay "

And Sam smiles ...

The End.


	10. Where are you now ?

**warning : Bitterness**

  
The night ... The silence ... The absence ...  
Castiel, white shirt and rolled up sleeves, sprawled on an worned armchair looks to the other side of this trailer becoming his lair.  
A half empty glass in one hand, a bottle of whiskey in the other that he holds upright on his thigh, he gets drunk without pleasure.  
He thinks of him ... Again. He drinks to try to forget him ... in vain.

The darkness has been defeated. A relative peace reigns over this cursed land of which he is forever a prisoner . Since, he's split his existence between hunts and his sleepless nights.

He empties his glass, gets up, stumbles on the coffee table and ends up letting himself fall on the battered cushions. He buries his face in his hands, leaning on his knees, hunched shoulders, crushed by the weight of this name which eats away him like a gangrene : Dean.

_Where are you now?_

Sprawled on his bed with crumpled sheets, Dean stares at the ceiling.  
With an hand, he holds a glass put on his chest. An empty bottle to his right.

He and Sam came back late in the afternoon, he immediately locked himself in his room and didn't leave it since. He drinks to forget that he is not there, that he will never be there.  
He drinks to silence the bitterness that screams in this body consumed by regrets.

_Where are you now?_

The war is over and the few hunts that take up him and his brother are not enough to silence the echo of the void he feels.  
They had left each other as they had found each other ... A look, some unspoken words and that answer that the fallen angel had waited for and that Dean had refused to give it to him.

So Castiel was gone and Dean had done nothing to hold him back.  
He had no more fights, walls or excuses behind hide his fear. Just a bunker, a brother and a few bottles of whiskey

Sam watched him close the door of this room in this routine that had become too familiar. He sighs in front of all this mess, these years of headlong rushes and denial ... These two beings who loved each other but who like two opposing magnets had ended up moving away and getting lost.

Dean, arm resting on his forehead, stares again and again at the ceiling of his room and in the tears which suddenly escape, he perceives this ocean in which he has immersed so often and haunt his nights.

_Where are you now?_

Castiel smiles, weary, at this emerald mirror that drunkenness is not enough to make disappear. He lets sorrow drown his distress drinking to his health.

Forever torn hearts from two beings that a life of sacrifices has broken ...

The end.


	11. Maybe tomorrow

Leaning against the bunker door, Dean raises his eyes to the sky, gets lost in the absence.  
Sam joins him, hands him a cup of coffee and follows his gaze.  
No words are exchanged. There is nothing to say.

Maybe tomorrow.

Hope at each sunrise, at each of its sunsets.  
They should have been there for _him_. That's all. Simple evidence and now an open wound.  
You don't let a torn soul get lost by ignoring his silences.  
It's eating Dean up inside. They spoke so little and understood each other so badly but ...

Maybe tomorrow

He drinks his coffee and gets back. Sam stays and prays. He asks forgiveness wherever _he'_ s.  
 _He_ left the bunker and none of them worried, none tried to find out. One call would have been enough.  
He takes out his phone and stares at the blank screen. Only one so that the angel doesn't have the feeling to be nothing for them.  
Sam slides down the door.

www

Tomorrow, a new year will come out with its 365 days of tears and blood.  
It's been two months since this tomorrow is no longer a "maybe" but just a probable "never".

Dean drinks to forget but alcohol no longer numbs his pain. Every day he calls him.  
Everyday, him, Dean Winchester, apologizes.  
He should call him just to tell him the only truth that matters ....

Maybe tomorrow

Sam watches his brother die. He takes his phone and texts these simple words: "He loves you"  
  


www

  
Tonight, the year ends and another begins.  
They are sitting and staring at the computer screen. Time square goes by the seconds and Dean and Sam go by the names, the memories, the absent ...

"Happy New Year, Sammy", drink in.  
"Happy New Year, Dean".

First of the year. First of nothing.  
It's snowing.

Maybe tomorrow

Dean calls him again ... Always ... The answerphone is not turned off ... Dean holds on.  
"Cass ... It's ... It's me again, Dean ... I'm begging you"  
Lump on his troath, he suffocates.  
"Just tell me you're fine ... That you ... I'm so sorry ... I should have called you ... I should have seen that you're not fine ... is ... It's nothing that damn deal ... We all screwed up ... but I don't care ", stifling a disappointed laugh. "I ... I ... I love you Cass ... Damn if only you knew how much I love you", holding back his tears. "I'm begging you ... Come back ... Tell me you're not ..."  
He hangs up and collapses on his wheel ... "... dead", broken voice

"Dean"  
A hand is placed on his cheek, erasing the traces of his tears.  
"Dean"  
He stands up. Just an illusion.

Maybe tomorrow

  
www  
  


Sam opens the door, he needs fresh air. That of the bunker is flawed. The evil has been overcome but the monsters remain ... A hunt yes but ...

Maybe tomorrow

He grows back too long hair and inspires. Fills his lungs with life when everything is dead.  
He stares at the sky, lowers his eyes and meets _his._  
He keeps him hugged too long and the other doesn't move. Stiff, face closed, gaze turned off. Months of wandering and suffering.  
Blue will live again.

Maybe tomorrow

Dean is standing and watching the coffee run ... Drip by drip...  
He closes his eyes, clenches his fists, curses his memories which torment him in this unchanging refrain: "Hello Dean".

But this warmth, this smell, this deep and cold voice at the same time.  
He dares to turn around, he dares to raise his head, he dares ...  
He's afraid to approach, he's afraid to believe in this slight smile that slides on the lips of this too emaciated face.

"Cass", wiping his cheek brusquely, almost ashamed of this weak tear.

He doesn't ask him anything. Nothing about this scar on his cheek. Nothing about the radiance that is missing from this all too human blue.

Maybe tomorrow

He steps forward, put his hands on his check and kisses him. Desperate.  
His breath, his mouth.  
And Castiel smiles on Dean's lips.

Sam walks away.  
They have so much to say, so much to be forgiven.

Tomorrow surely

The end


End file.
